


Broken Hearts

by Trufreak89



Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: Eve definitely has a thing for Villanelle's voice, F/F, post 3x03
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-29
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-03-01 19:21:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23902234
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trufreak89/pseuds/Trufreak89
Summary: Eve is desperate to fix her broken heart.Or: How Villanelle's message to Eve went from 'I wish I had shot you in the head' to 'Admit it Eve, you wish I was here'.
Relationships: Eve Polastri/Villanelle | Oksana Astankova
Comments: 41
Kudos: 473





	1. Chapter 1

  
_‘Admit it Eve, you wish I was here.’_

The words echo around Eve’s barren flat, bouncing off the bare walls. Villanelle’s voice surrounds her, pinning her to her bed as firmly as Villanelle herself had pinned Eve days earlier. 

Eve presses the little plastic pink heart clutched possessively in her hand. The words repeat, Villanelle’s voice growing lower each time. 

_‘Admit it Eve, you wish-’_   
  
_‘Admit it, Eve-’_

_‘Admit-’_

Eve presses it again, but no sound comes out. The light doesn’t glow. It’s worn out. Eve’s borrowed heart is broken. 

Growling in frustration, Eve threw the plastic heart off the wall beside her bed. Running her fingers through her loose curls, Eve did her best not to scream out loud. She felt like she was finally losing her mind. 

_Fucking Villanelle!_

She had sauntered onto that bus, and back into Eve’s life, like she didn’t have a care in the world! How dare she be so put together, when Eve herself is falling apart? 

She’s lost count of how many times she’s listened to that damn heart play Villanelle’s teasing message over the last few days. 

She’s carried it to work in her purse, cradled it in the pocket of her apron and snuck it out with her on her cigarette breaks; her cigarettes left untouched as she cups the heart to ear and listens to it over and over like a mantra. 

Work has been a welcome distraction for her the past few days, but it’s Eve’s day off and she finds herself at a loss. It’s early afternoon, and she’s wasted the morning listening to Villanelle’s voice. 

She’s supposed to be at Bitter Pill’s office to meet with Jamie, Kenny’s boss, at three. Snatching up the pink heart, she stuffs it into her pocket, pulls on her shoes and yanks her coat off the hook by the door.  
  
Her hand shakes as she holds her Oyster card over the terminal on the bus. “Alright, Luv?” The driver asks in a thick cockney accent, squinting at her through the plastic partition. 

“Fine.” Eve answers quickly. She shoves her card into her purse with one hand, caressing the plastic heart in her pocket with the other. She glances at the stairs once before taking a seat at the back of the bus. It’s a sunny day and her reflection in the window shows a woman unkempt. 

She has her hair tied up in a messy bun, with bits coming loose at all angles. Her cheeks are hollow, and her eyes framed by black circles. Eve’s barely slept the last three days, save for the times she passed out from sheer exhaustion.   
Villanelle has done this to her. 

_That bitch._

Eve scrutinises each stop on the way to the office, watching for any traces of the other woman. She reaches her destination, with no unexpected visitors on the bus, and scurries into the lift. She jabs the button for the correct floor.  
  
Eve’s over two hours early for her meeting with Jamie. She makes a bee-line for Bear’s desk. The jovial bearded man greets her with a smile. “Hi, Eve. You’re early, aren’t you? I thought the meeting was at three?” He checks his watch, as if making sure he hasn’t lost track of time. 

“Yeah, it is.” Eve glances over her shoulder, looking for any signs of Jamie at his office windows. The blinds are closed and nobody else is close enough to overhear her. 

“I need a favour.” She digs into her pocket and brings out the heart, clutched tightly in a sweaty palm. Bear’s interest is peaked, but Eve doesn’t offer the item up immediately. 

“Is this about Kenny?” 

“No.” Eve licks her dry, cracked lip, second guessing herself. Desperation overcomes common sense, and she finally opens her fist to reveal the item she’s holding. Bear’s interest turns to confusion. 

“What’s that?” He reaches for it, but Eve snaps her fingers shut. “Okay. Getting some serious Gollum vibes here.” The reference is lost on Eve. She’s too busy fighting the wave of panic threatening to wash over her and sweep the last of her sanity away.

“Sorry. It’s… it’s from inside a stuffed bear. It records a message and then it’s sewn in there.” 

“Like Build-a-Bear?” 

“Yes, but it’s not. I need to know where this came from.” 

Bear doesn’t blink at the odd request, as if a shady, former MI6 operative asking him to help her trace a child’s toy is nothing out of the ordinary. 

“May I?” Bear holds his hand out again. After what seems an age, Eve finally gives up her treasure. He inspects it, turning it over and over in his beefy hands. Eve jumps out of her skin as he presses it, but nothing happens. 

“Battery must be flat.” He observes. 

“That’s the problem. I need it fixed! I need-” Eve catches herself before she can finish that sentiment. Fixing her poker face back into position she tries to sound in control. “Can you replace the battery? Or tell me where it comes from so I can go ask the store?” 

Bear hums to himself as he pries the two pieces of plastic apart, revealing the inner workings of the recording device. “It looks like they soldered the battery in there. These things aren’t meant to be re-usable-” 

“Then tell me where it comes from!” Eve’s voice rises, catching the attention of a few of the other office workers. Bear, already used to her abrasiveness, shrugs it off as he fixes the device together again and hands it back to Eve. 

“Did you check the tag? On the bear?” He says, leaving Eve speechless. In her manic state she hadn’t seen the forest for the tress. Checking the tag hadn’t even occurred to her. 

“Thanks!” She shouts over her shoulder as she darts out of the office, her meeting with Jamie all but forgotten as Bear calls after her.   
Stepping into Tatty’s - the psychodelic stuffed toy shop on Clarence Street - Eve goes straight for the young woman standing at the sales counter. 

Arriving home, she’d found the label on the discarded princess bear and a Google search later she had the address for the toy shop in Kingston Upon Thames; a stone’s throw from her flat in New Malden.  
  
“Hi.” Eve greeted the girl at the counter, trying not to sound flustered. “I need some help. A… a friend of mine bought me one of your bears and the message thingy broke.” She fishes out the heart and presents it to the young sales assistant.

“Um… that’s supposed to be inside the bear.” The girl points out, chewing gum and shooting Eve a look like she thinks a carer of some sort should be with her. 

“I know that. Like I said, it’s broke.” Eve says through clenched teeth. She can tell how much help the teenager is going to be. “The battery must have run out or something. Can you replace them?”  
  
“No. We don’t do that.” 

“I didn’t ask if you did, I asked if you could!” 

The girl takes a step back from the counter and glances warily around the store, looking for help. Aware the situation is getting away from her, Eve gives a hasty apology. 

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry. It’s just… the friend who gave me this. She was hit by a bus two days ago. And she died.” The lies flow naturally from Eve, like water running downhill. 

“Oh my god!” The girl gasps, her over-made-up face full of sympathy. “That’s terrible. I’m so sorry for your loss!” 

Eve nods. She rubs at her dry eyes, milking the lie for all it’s worth. She didn’t need to work that hard to make her voice crack. “It was such a shock. She was so young. Maybe you saw her in here? Five-eight, slim, honey coloured hair, hazel eyes, maybe wearing a grey suit?” It’s a reach, but Eve’s gamble pays off as the girl’s eyes widen. 

“Oh god, yeah, she was in Monday! That would have been the day before-” She abruptly cuts herself off, not wanting to upset Eve further. Shifting from foot to foot, she glances around before looking back at Eve. 

“We don’t normally do this, but the technician that services the recording booth is due in tomorrow. I can see if he can replace the battery for you, or get a copy of the recording for you? We’re not supposed to tell people, but it keeps a copy.” 

Relief floods Eve like a dam bursting. Real tears flow down her cheek as she clutches the girl’s hands in her own. “Yes, thank you! Thank you. Anything you can do.” 

The sales assistant goes through the motions, patting Eve’s hand and repeating how sorry she is for her loss. People are so predictable. It’s almost too easy to manipulate the teenage girl. Eve feels a lump of shame forming in the back of her throat. She swallows, pushing the guilt down with the rest of her swirling emotions. 

“What was the message? I can have him search for it.” 

“Uh… It mentions my name. Eve.” She hopes that will be enough. Apparently it is. The teen nods as she scribbles the information on a post-it note, followed by Eve’s name and number. 

It physically pains her to leave the cheap plastic heart behind, but it’s her only chance at having it fixed; at hearing Villanelle’s husky voice purring in her ear again. 

Eve can’t explain why she needs it so much. She just does. If she dwells too deeply on it she risks falling down the rabbit hole - and losing what little sanity, she has left. 

  
The call comes late the next afternoon. Eve is on her way to work when her phone rings and the chirpy teenager on the other end of the line tells her the technician replaced the battery. 

Eve gets off the bus at the next stop and hops on one going in the opposite direction. She calls in sick to the restaurant, doing a miserable job of faking a cough. She doesn’t care. Her only focus right now is on getting her heart back. 

It’s nearly closing time as she steps through the door of _Tatty’s._ The shop is empty, save for a distraught looking father and a happy toddler with her arms stuffed with soft toys. 

Eve walks past them and up to the counter. The same teenage girl from yesterday is standing there, accompanied by a gawky looking teenage boy with a face full of acne. 

“Oh, hi!” She welcomes Eve like an old friend with a wide smile as she reaches under the counter. “Here you are.” She hands over the heart, and sets another piece of plastic on the counter, her hand hovering over it. 

Resisting the urge to set the heart off just to hear Villanelle’s voice again, Eve pockets it and turns her attention to the other piece of plastic, staring at it with a puzzled expression. 

“It’s a thumb drive.” The teenager explains. “The tech guy, Micky, he found eleven recordings from your friend. He thought you might want them all.” 

Eve’s heart skips as a beat as adrenaline surges through her body. She suddenly feels hot and stifled inside the small shop. 

“Um, the messages… he said they were weird.” The girl looks to the teenage boy beside her, who tries and fails to stifle a smirk. Eve’s heart sinks at the thought of what the pair might have heard. 

“She was my ex.” Eve fumbles over the words in a rush to get them out. “The breakup was bad. She gave me the bear the day before she-” Eve cuts herself off with a hand to her mouth and a muffled sob. 

The two teens have the good grace to look guilty. The girl takes her hand off the thumb drive and tells Eve she’s sorry for her loss. Eve snatches the drive up and takes off with a mumbled ‘thanks’. 

She’s hyperventilating by the time she arrives home, the thumb drive burning a figurative hole in her tightly clenched fist. 

Eve tosses her coat over the back of a chair and kicks off her shoes, tripping over them on her way to her bed. She yanks open the lid of her laptop and waits impatiently for it to load before jamming the thumb drive into the usb port. 

The folder takes an eternity to open. To ease her anxiety, Eve gives the plastic heart a squeeze and Villanelle is with her; her teasing voice ringing out around the room. She cradles the heart to her ear and takes deep, calming breaths as the contents of the thumb drive finally appear on the screen. 

There are eleven files sorted by oldest to newest. With a shaky hand, Eve clicks on the last file and Villanelle’s teasing message plays over the speakers. 

_‘Admit it Eve, you wish I was here.’_

Body tingling, chest heaving, Eve clicks on the first recording. 

_‘I wish I had shot you in the head.’_

Villanelle’s voice is filled with hatred and spite. It hits Eve like the bullet that tore through her shoulder blade in Italy, ripping apart muscle and sinew and lodging into her rib. 

The next recording is just as painful. 

_‘I should have shot you in the head and watched you die.’_

Eve presses on. There are still eight more recordings before Villanelle’s chosen one. 

_‘I can’t stop thinking about you.’_

It hits harder than the earlier, malicious, messages. She sounds so vulnerable; far from the cocky and in control Villanelle she presented as on the bus. Eve plays the next one, then the next, and the next. 

_‘…’_

_‘I thought you were dead.’_

_‘I thought I had killed you.’_

_‘I missed you…’_

_‘Do you still think about me, Eve?’_

_‘Do you wish I was here right now?’_   
  
_‘Admit it Eve, you wish I was here.’_

Eve cracks up with laughter, still holding onto that stupid pink heart. Villanelle is no more put together than Eve is. They’re both falling apart, spiraling deeper and deeper into madness. 

The only difference between them is Villanelle hides it better.


	2. Chapter 2

“Admit it Eve, you want me here.” Villanelle’s words leak into Eve’s dreams, twisting and tangling their way through her subconscious and rousing her from a fitful, alcohol induced, slumber. 

Eve groans, barely conscious as she gropes at her side for the little plastic heart; her last gift from Villanelle. The previous gift, the three-inch scar on Eve’s shoulder blade, aches as she reaches for her precious trinket. 

Eve’s fingers brush over the cold, hard plastic. She presses down on it, setting it off and filling the air with Villanelle’s sultry voice. 

_‘Admit it Eve, you wish I was here.’_

The familiar words are a comfort to her in an empty bed in the dead of night. She presses it again and again, sighing as she slides her free hand into her shorts. 

_‘Admit it Eve…’_

“You look happier to see me this time.” 

Eve jumps, wrenching her hand out of her shorts and turning over fast enough to give her whiplash. Her shoulder screams in protest, but Eve doesn’t have time to worry about the pain.  
  
Beside her, Villanelle lies stretched out on Eve’s bed, one hand propping up her head and a devious smirk spread over her lips. 

The smirk wavers as Eve’s eyes widen and she pulls her arm back, ready to lash out. Villanelle is quicker. She tops Eve as smoothly as she did on a moving bus, pinning her arms above her head and straddling her hips. 

Eve rears her head sharply, but Villanelle is a fast learner. She jerks her own head back, laughing breathlessly as Eve flops back on the bed. 

“What, no kiss this time?” She teases, trying to make the taunt sound light-hearted. Eve sees right through her, past the bravado and the mask that Villanelle wears for the rest of the world. 

Eve sees her.  
  
Wheezing and short of breath, Eve doesn’t grace her with an answer. She winces, biting back a scream as Villanelle presses harder on her wrists. 

“What is it? What’s wrong?” Recognizing genuine pain on Eve’s face, Villanelle eases her grip on the other woman. Eve wrenches her left arm down with a guttural groan and cradles her shoulder with her right hand. 

“What do you think? You shot me, you dick!” Eve grunts as Villanelle shuffles backwards, allowing her to sit up against the window wall. “Do you know how many muscles the bullet ripped through? How fucking long it took me to tie my own shoelaces again!” Eve fumes at her, anger taking over her shock at finding Villanelle in bed with her. 

“Can I get you anything?” Villanelle asks, her voice soft, even childlike. Eve scoffs and shakes her head, her curls bouncing around her shoulders. 

“What about painkillers? Do you have any?” Villanelle gets up on her knees, still straddling Eve’s legs, and begins looking around the bed-sit.  
  
“Yeah.” Eve reaches for the open bottle of wine sitting on her bedside table and takes a long swig of the bottle. Villanelle frowns, but keeps her opinion to herself.  
  
Eve slams the bottle back on the table and cradles her injured shoulder again. She’s so tired of this. “What are you doing here, Villanelle?” 

“I wanted to see you.” Villanelle’s honesty is as shocking as it is refreshing. Eve lets out a soft, defeated, chuckle. 

“Well, here I am.” 

They sit in silence. It should be awkward, but Eve finds herself oddly at ease. She’s been looking over her shoulder for so long that it’s a pleasant change to have her enemy in front of her. 

“Can I see?” Villanelle leans forward, reaching to move Eve’s left hand away from her shoulder. Eve lashes out, catching her off guard, and slapping Villanelle’s hand away. 

Villanelle’s expression hardens as her eyes darken. The woman who shot her six long months ago is finally before her; even if only for a second. Villanelle blinks, and the anger dissipates, her hazel eyes clearing. She licks her lips, slowly regaining her composure.

Eve stares defiantly at her before giving her a hard shove. Villanelle tumbles backwards, landing at the bottom of Eve’s feet. She might have fallen off the bed altogether if not for the bookcase at the end of the bed. Her nostrils flare and her top lip curls back, but she doesn’t give a reaction. 

Eve turns to face the window wall, turning her back on the younger woman. She sees Villanelle’s confusion reflected in the glass. Eve winces as she pulls her bed-shirt up over shoulders, revealing the three-inch scar at the base of her shoulder blade. 

Villanelle swallows hard and shuffles forward, still expecting a trap. “The bullet didn’t go through.” Says Eve.  
She stiffens when Villanelle’s fingers graze over the scar, as if afraid to touch her. Eve considers pulling her shirt back down when she feels warm lips press against the scar. She gasps, and Villanelle pulls away. 

Hands shaking, Eve eases her shirt down and turns to face her uninvited guest. She schools her face into a hardened expression, staring Villanelle down before saying, “Show me yours.” 

Villanelle’s hand reaches for her side. She’s dressed in black, wearing another impressive three-piece-suit, a crisp white shirt and a skinny black tie. 

She unbuttons her suit jacket and waistcoat, folds them both neatly and drapes them over the bookcase behind her, making a show of the entire thing; _as usual_.

She untucks her shirt and lifts it up to just below her breast, showing off an impressively toned stomach and flawless sun-kissed sun; marred only by the small jagged scar above her hip. Eve’s gift to her. 

Villanelle lifts her chin defiantly with pursed lips, as if offering Eve a challenge. She accepts. Crawling forward, she presses her fingers against the thick knot of scar tissue on Villanelle’s stomach. 

“Don’t you want to-” Villanelle begins smugly, but stops as Eve leans down, replacing her fingers with her lips. 

Villanelle forgets how to breathe, taking shallow, gasping breaths as she feels Eve’s fiery tongue trailing along the length of her scar. 

“Fuck!” She gasps, eyes almost rolling to the back of her head. Eve sits back up, wearing a smug smirk that rivals the best of Villanelle’s. 

Villanelle’s eyes are wide with disbelief, as if considering this might be a dream. She looks like a wounded animal, frightened and skittish, and considering bolting. 

Eve doesn’t give her the choice. Grabbing hold of Villanelle’s tie, she yanks the other woman forward, crushing their lips together. What follows is a violent clash of lips and teeth and tongues. Eve lies back, still gripping the tie and taking Villanelle with her. As her head hits the pillow, she knocks the little plastic pink heart. She laughs into Villanelle’s mouth, overcome with giddiness. 

How could she ever think a piece of plastic could replace the genuine thing? That anything could ever substitute Villanelle purring in her ear, lithe body pressed firmly against her, deadly hands tangled in her hair… 

Panic overwhelms Eve as Villanelle pulls away. She comes to an abrupt stop, nose to nose with Eve but making no attempt to kiss her. 

“Villanelle-” Without warning, Villanelle flips their positions, rolling over, so she’s lying flat on her back with Eve astride her hips. 

Villanelle’s expression is soft and open and wanting. She reaches up, cupping Eve’s face in her hands as she slowly brings their mouths back together. There’s no violence - no anger - as Villanelle kisses her. 

It’s slow and intimate, and it scares the shit out of Eve, but she never wants it to stop. Villanelle closes her eyes as she lies down, pulling Eve on top of her.

Eve sighs into Villanelle’s mouth, closing her own eyes and finally meeting the other woman halfway. “I’m glad you’re here.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi folks, thanks again for reading and for the demand for another part. I'm a sucker for peer-pressure, so here it is! Also, this spiraled and my chapter plan alone became over 1,000 words long, so there's going to be a part four too.

  
Eve wakes up alone. The other side of the bed is empty, and the sheets are cold. There’s no trace of Villanelle anywhere in Eve’s small flat. The only proof she was ever there is a thin black tie poking out from under Eve’s pillow. 

Eve remembers falling asleep after a night spent kissing the younger woman, her face pressed against Villanelle’s chest and the assassin’s fingers running through her hair. Waking up on her own feels like a sucker punch to the gut. 

It’s almost as bad as waking up in a hospital bed in Italy, alone and confused and utterly betrayed by everyone she trusted. Eve feels as foolish now as she did back then. 

There’s no note. No explanation. No Villanelle. 

Eve’s phone rings from deep within her purse and she leaps out of bed to answer it, knocking over the bottle of wine on her bedside table. The bottle hits the floor with a thud. It breaks, the glass flying everywhere and blood red claret splashing over the tiles. If that’s not a metaphor for her life, then Eve doesn’t know what is. 

She steps over the glass and makes it to her purse without further incident. The number flashing on her screen isn’t recognised and Eve’s heart swells. “H-hello?” She’s breathless as she answers, expecting to hear Villanelle’s honey coated voice on the other end of the line. 

“Polastri, it’s Jamie.” A gruff voice greets her. “You missed our meeting yesterday.” Disappointment washes over Eve like a tidal wave, sweeping away the last of her frivolous hope. 

“Jamie, yeah, hi. Sorry, something came up.” 

“Something came up? Something more important than investigating your friend’s death?” Jamie asks in his usual abrupt tone; the one that makes Eve want to scratch his eyes out. 

She pinches the bridge of her nose and counts to five before replying. Jamie beats her to the punch. “Are you still committed to this thing or not?” 

Eve clenches her jaw. “Yes. I’m committed... I’ll be at the office in an hour.”   
  
“Make it snappy.” 

Eve hangs up on him before she says something she’ll regret. Her personal feelings for Jamie aside, she needs his help to find out the truth about what happened to Kenny. 

The day doesn’t go much better than how it starts. The meeting with Jamie is a bust. They’re still waiting on MI6 to work on the thumb-drive and the phone. And Jamie is under the false impression that chewing Eve’s ear off about it will somehow make the agency go faster. 

He presses her to call Carolyn, but that’s the last thing Eve feels like doing. It’s ridiculous, but she’s terrified that her old boss will hear her voice and just know what happened with Villanelle last night. 

It’s a long and tedious day that drags on forever. Eve doesn’t make it back home from the Bitter Pill office until close to midnight. With a belly full of beer, pizza and Haribo, Eve is ready to drop the second she walks through her front door.  
  
She hangs her coat and her purse up on the hook by the door and kicks off her shoes before making a bee-line for the fridge. She takes out a cold bottle of beer and pops the cap off with the bottle opener sitting on the draining board. 

Eve turns while taking a chug and ends up spraying beer over the floor as she takes in the sight before her. There on Eve’s bed, propped up on her side and wearing nothing more than one of Eve’s bed-shirts and a seductive smile, lies Villanelle. 

“No!” Eve shakes her head from side to side, as if Villanelle is a mirage she can make disappear. “Just no! Get out!” She points at the door for added emphasis. 

“Oh, Eve, you weren’t kicking me out of bed last night!” Villanelle laughs at her, stretching out her endless bare legs and flicking her hair back from her face. 

She’s wearing it loose and Eve struggles to remember if she’s ever seen Villanelle’s natural hair down before. It’s beautiful and surreal, like seeing the Aurora Borealis in person for the first time. Soft, honey coloured curls spill over Villanelle’s shoulders. She’s wearing one of Eve’s washed out old bed-shirts, the faded blue fabric coming to a stop just below her bum. 

“Get out!” Eve snaps when she regains the ability to speak. “Now!” 

“Or what?” Villanelle rolls onto her front and rests her chin on her folded arms, looking entirely at home in Eve’s bed. She bends her legs back and the hem of her shirt rides up, revealing lacy black, barely there, underwear. 

She laughs at Eve’s dumbstruck expression. “Seriously, Eve? What will you do?” Her eyes light up with childish-glee as she throws down the challenge. She’s looking for a reaction. Whether or not it’s with violence, she just wants Eve to react to her presence. 

Villanelle smirks as Eve stomps towards her, but she’s left disappointed as the other woman stops at her dresser and yanks the top drawer open. Eve pulls out some bedclothes, and stalks silently off to the bathroom, slamming the door behind her. 

Villanelle frowns at the closed door, at a loss for what is happening. “Eve?” She calls out, but gets no reply. It’s a full five minutes before Eve comes out of the bathroom, dressed in a pair of shorts and an old t-shirt. 

She has her hair tied back, and a toothbrush dangles out of her mouth. She has the clothes she was wearing tucked under her arm and drops them in a heap on the floor by the washing machine, all the while keeping her back turned to her uninvited guest. 

“Eve, are you ignoring me?” Villanelle teases in a sing-song-voice. “Do you really think I will go if you pretend I am not here?” Eve carries on ignoring her. She goes back into the bathroom and emerges minus the toothbrush a few minutes later.  
  
“Eve, this is silly.” Villanelle sighs. She rolls onto her back, her hair spilling over the end of the bed, cascading in waves. “You can’t ignore me for forever!” 

Villanelle sits up as Eve approaches the bed. This time she stops at the light switch and flicks it off, plunging the room into darkness. Villanelle’s cat-like eyes adjust quickly, they focus on Eve’s figure and follow it to the bed. 

Eve is as silent as the grave as she pulls back the duvet cover and climbs under them. She rolls onto her side, facing away from Villanelle, and settles her head on the pillow. 

Behind her, Villanelle is dumbfounded. She leans over Eve, her hair dangling down and tickling the side of Eve’s cheek. “What are you doing?” She pokes the older woman’s shoulder when Eve doesn’t reply. “Eve?” 

“I’m exhausted.” Eve gives in and answers. “I’ve had a shitty day and I just want to sleep! So either shut up and go to sleep, or get out! I don’t care which.” 

“Huh…” Villanelle props herself up on her side, her expression quizzical. The seconds tick by, and Eve says nothing. She isn’t joking, she’s really going to sleep. 

Villanelle shifts under the covers and lies on her back, twiddling her thumbs while staring up at the wet patch on the ceiling. 

This new Eve is unpredictable - deliciously so. Villanelle doesn’t know how Eve will react from one minute to the next, and it’s exhilarating. She hasn’t felt this alive in months. Has felt nothing since Rome. 

“Are you really going to sleep?” She asks. 

“Yes.” 

“You know I’m in your bed?” 

“Hmm, I noticed.” Eve mutters. She pulls the covers tighter around herself. “I’m sure you’ll do another disappearing act in the middle of the night.”  
  
Villanelle rolls onto her side again, putting the pieces together. Maybe Eve is still predictable. She reaches out, playing with the ends of Eve’s hair. “I had things to take care of. I had to check in with a friend in Barcelona… You were sleeping, I didn’t want to wake you.” 

“Hmph.” Eve huffs. 

“I missed you today. I couldn’t wait to come back, but you weren’t here… so I made myself comfy. Eve? Eve, please don’t be mad.” 

Eve rolls over without warning, almost bumping heads with the assassin. Her eyes burn black in the darkness as she stares Villanelle down. “Did you kill Kenny?” 

“Who?” Villanelle frowns. 

“Carolyn’s son. Kenny. My friend! Did you kill him?” Eve snarls, her anger bubbling to the surface. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Villanelle answers honestly. “What happened to him?” 

“Someone threw him off a roof. Last week.” Eve says flatly, the emotion in her voice slipping away. Beside her, Villanelle shakes her head. 

“I only came to London the day before I saw you. I had nothing to do with that.” 

“Don’t lie to me.” Eve shuffles closer, propping her fist under her chin and lying face to face with her, just like in Paris. 

“I am not lying to you!” Villanelle insists, bringing her face closer to Eve’s so the tips of their noses are touching. “I will find out who did this to your friend, and I will take care of them! I promise.” Villanelle watches intently as Eve wrestles with trusting her or not. 

“Fine.” She says. “Just go to sleep already.” Eve doesn’t roll over again. Still face to face with Villanelle, she closes her eyes. They snap open as Villanelle kisses her. 

It’s a far cry from their earlier kisses, slow and timid, Villanelle’s lips barely pressing against Eve’s. For once it’s Villanelle that is nervous, like she’s testing the waters. She pulls back, searching Eve’s face for a reaction. 

Eve gives her one. She kisses her back, lips firmly pressed against the other woman’s. When she pulls away, she nestles her face in Villanelle’s shoulder. 

Villanelle cautiously brings her hand up to cup her cheek. “Eve?” 

“Hmm?” 

“Can we spoon?” 

Eve chuckles softly. “Fine, roll over.” 

“No, I want to be the big spoon!” Says Villanelle. “You roll over.” Eve does as she’s asked, and at once Villanelle presses in behind her. She wraps her arm around the smaller woman and buries her face in Eve’s hair. 

They lie like that for a few minutes before Eve feels Villanelle’s hand slipping down her stomach, and her fingers toying at the waistband of her shorts. 

“Don’t even think about it.” Eve grabs hold of Villanelle’s hand, wrenching it back up to her stomach and lacing their fingers together. 

“You can’t blame me for trying.” Villanelle chuckles in her ear. 

“Yes, I can. Now go to sleep, or I swear I’ll smother you.” 

“I’d like to see you try…” 

“Don’t tempt me... Goodnight, V.” 

“Goodnight, Eve.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey folks, thanks for reading and commenting!

Sleep doesn’t come easily to Villanelle. She’s been manic for days - ever since finding out Eve was alive - and she’s riding the high. With Eve in her arms, she doesn’t think she’ll ever come down. She watches the other woman sleep for hours, silent and still like a guardian made of stone. 

Villanelle longs to wake her up with teasing kisses, to strip her bare and fuck her until the sun comes up, but Eve’s exhaustion is written over her face. The bags under her eyes are as dark as the bruise blooming over her eye-socket. Villanelle touches her fingers to her own bruise - already turning a sickly shade of green - with a deep sense of pride. Eve, the real Eve, is emerging from her cocoon of politeness and normality. 

When Villanelle does fall asleep, it’s light and fitful. She wakes at every little noise, from a stray cat walking past Eve’s window to a car horn blaring. The first time she gets more than an hour’s rest she’s woken by violent screams. 

Her eyes snap open and her body tenses, preparing to fight for not only her own life, but for Eve’s too. She assesses the situation in seconds, locating the sound of the screaming and determining the source of the danger; Eve is the answer to both. 

She’s the one screaming, thrashing around in her sleep. There’s nobody else in the tiny flat, and no danger to either of them. Villanelle clamps hold of her arms and shakes her awake. “Eve! Eve, wake up!” The screaming stops when Eve opens her eyes. She looks delirious, her body covered in a thin sheen of sweat and her eyes wide and unseeing. 

“Eve, you were dreaming! You are safe now! You’re safe!” 

It takes Eve a moment to come round and realise where she is, and that Villanelle holding her down is not another try on her life. The last thirty-six hours come flooding back to her as Villanelle eases her grip on her arms and sits back. “You okay?” She asks. 

Eve blinks a few times and nods as she rubs at her eyes. “Nightmare.” She sits up stiffly, cradling her left shoulder. Villanelle reaches a hand out then stops, uncertain. 

“Should I rub your back or something? Is that what people do?” 

“I’m fine.” Eve shrugs off her attempt at comfort. She’s still groggy and her eyes are searching the floor, paying little attention to her bedmate. 

“What was it about? Your nightmare?” Villanelle frowns. She isn’t a person who’s used to being ignored, especially when in bed with a beautiful woman. “Was it about killing Raymond?” 

“Raymond?” Eve stops searching the floor and turns her attention back to Villanelle. “Was that his name? No, it’s not that.” She returns to scrutinising the floor. At this point, Villanelle isn’t even one-hundred percent sure the other woman is actually awake. 

“Then what was it? Tell me.” She presses, reaching for Eve’s arm only to have her pull away from her. “Was it Rome? Was it me?” 

“What?” Eve finally seems to have come around as she turns back to her with a blank stare. “No. No, nothing like that.” Her curls sashay as she shakes her head side to side again. She still doesn’t offer an explanation for her nightmare, though, not until Villanelle presses her for an answer. 

“It was the ants, okay?” She snaps as she lies back down, curling up on her side. Villanelle mimics her position.   
“Ants?” 

“Yes!” Eve blushes, burying her face in her pillow. “There were tons of them. They were huge, and they were carrying off my fridge…” 

“Ants?” Villanelle repeats with a deadpan expression before she erupts with laughter at the stupidity of Eve’s nightmare. “Are you kidding me?” She had thought Eve might be suffering from PTSD with taking a life in such a violent way, but no. Eve is having nightmares about giant ants. Villanelle rolls onto her back and continues cracking up laughing. 

“Laugh it up.” Eve sulks. She rolls over, turning her back on Villanelle. 

“Oh, Baby.” Villanelle stifles her giggling as she tucks in behind her, wrapping her arms around the smaller woman. “I didn’t mean to laugh at you.” She kisses the side of Eve’s cheek by way of apology, because she’ll never say the words out loud. 

They lie together in an easy silence, Eve’s nightmare slipping away with each passing second thanks to Villanelle’s comforting embrace. She’s almost asleep again when Villanelle asks, “Do you ever dream about me?”   
  
“No!” Comes Eve’s muffled reply, her face buried in her pillow. She answers too quick and her tone is defensive. Villanelle’s smug smile stretches across her entire face. 

“Do you dream about me often?” Villanelle pushes. Eve rolls her eyes. She knows there’s no way out of this conversation, so she gives in and answers. 

“Less often than you masturbate over me.” She huffs, still trying to cling to the upper hand. Behind her, Villanelle barks with laughter. 

“That’s probably true. I masturbate a lot! You should try it, it’s good for stress.”  
  
“Hmm.” Eve makes a non-committal noise. “I’ll put it on my to-do list.” 

“Good.” Sarcasm is lost on Villanelle. “I dreamed about you the night Konstantin told me you were alive… do you want to hear about it?” 

“Your perverted dream? Probably not.” Eve says flippantly. With her back to the other woman, she doesn’t see the way Villanelle’s features fall into a frown; but she hears the sheets rustle as Villanelle rolls over in a strop.   
  
Eve glances back and finds the assassin giving her a literal cold shoulder. She sits up and leans over her. “Are you serious right now? V, c’mon.” She tries shaking her shoulder, but the younger woman carries on ignoring her, feigning sleep. 

“Fine!” Eve lies back down, tucking herself behind Villanelle and draping an arm over her stomach. “Tell me about your dream.” 

“I can’t remember.” Villanelle sulks. 

Her resolve falters as Eve presses her lips to her ear and murmurs, “I want to hear it.”

Villanelle mewls like a cat under the attention and stretches out before turning on to her back, all traces of her previous huff gone. “Okay. So I dreamt that I built us a house in the woods with my bare hands. And it had this huge bed with these ornate carvings, but you said it was ugly and you refused to sleep in it!” 

“How rude of me.” Eve muses. 

“It was!” Villanelle turns her head to face the older woman with a frown. “You insisted on sleeping on the floor! And let me tell you, sex on the floor can be fun, but not every-"

“Pervert!” Eve rolls her eyes at her and slaps her arm. 

“Hey! That hurt!” Villanelle is back to sulking as she rubs at the spot where Eve hit her. 

“Don’t be such a baby!” Eve laughs at her. “And go back to sleep already.” She rolls on to her side, tugging on Villanelle’s arm to encourage her to do the same. Villanelle scoots in behind her, spooning her again. 

“Aren’t you even going to kiss it better?” She sighs in Eve’s ear, her breath hot and ragged, sending desire pooling in Eve’s stomach. She squashes it down and locks it away, even as Villanelle grinds against her. 

“Maybe in the morning.” Eve mutters, trying her best to keep her voice level. 

“Really?” Villanelle laughs as she nuzzles her face into Eve’s hair. “I’m going to hold you to that, Eve.” 

**Author's Note:**

> I've just caught up with season 3 and immediately had to write this! It was supposed to be a one-shot but it got out of hand and is now 2 parts (I'm toying with the idea of adding a 3rd part). As ever, thanks for reading folks!


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